


Heart's Words

by Lafaiette



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Age Difference, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Love, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 03:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7342351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Words are so tricky sometimes.”</p><p>“They are difficult to catch and control.” Solas agrees. “The heart is their creator and its language is often too complex for people to translate it.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart's Words

Surprisingly, the weather changes in Skyhold too.

It never gets too hot, but sometimes, usually thrice a year, the snow stops falling and powerful heat waves assault the stronghold. One might even believe spring or summer has arrived.

The wind doesn’t bite and hurt the faces of the soldiers and merchants in the courtyard, Josephine puts away the round brazier she keeps by her feet, people inside the fortress stop wearing scarves and woolly capes, the food prepared in the kitchens gets lighter, more suitable for the days filled with sun and warmth.

After months spent with snow and ice creaking under the boots and windows perennially closed to avoid letting drafts in, the people of Skyhold and the village in the valley are happy to change clothes and enjoy the blooming plants and flowers, to touch metal and chains without gloves and bask in the sunrays finally offering comfort and bright light.

But the cold days of Skyhold are _long_ and everyone is more used to them than to the shorter and fewer warm ones, which don’t last as much as the freezing months and whose effect is not as shaking.

So, when the temperature rises, complaints also begin: sweat makes clothes and dresses stink; it chafes the agents who wear leather and the heat chokes the ones who wear hoods; even the light, refreshing food from the kitchens is refused and cold drinks - of any kind - are preferred.

Dwarven merchants are more than happy to sell their beer to the Inquisition during those days. They even appear in the stronghold a few weeks before the actual heat waves begin, as if they already knew their presence and goods would be requested soon.

Dennet starts complaining that the horses and mounts need more water and cooling spells on their stables; Dagna and Harritt welcome (each in their own way) all those who wish to cool down in the forge, whose waterfall and icy walls provide relief from the unfamiliar heat.

Those who don’t know or forgot about the hot spots scattered here and there on the walls and floor, though, get up with cries of pain.

The garden timidly shows its beauty and most vivid colors, while also making sure everyone in a ten meters radius start sneezing and rubbing their red eyes; Mother Giselle and some other sisters of the Chantry take refuge in the shade offered by the high arches or tallest tree, while the maids and servants take longer breaks and bring water everywhere they go.

The Lady Inquisitor and her companions change habits too.

Varric refuses to stay and write in the main hall near the fireplace.

“I’m not that insane.” he says every time he is questioned about it. He moves near the tavern, where the dummies are, causing Cassandra to glance at him both with sheer rapture and scowling disapproval.

“You are distracting me!” she always says, apparently unbothered by the sunrays burning fiercely her back and neck. She swings her sword even harder, defiantly.

“But I need inspiration for my next chapter!” Varric punctually responds, sitting in the shade with a mug of cold beer resting next to him. He always keeps his jacket more open than usual - “to let fresh hair reach my chest”, he says - and that seems to have a curious effect on Cassandra, together with his words.

She blushes, then gasps, and asks like she always does: “Are you continuing _Swords and Shields_?”

“Nope. Short story without a title yet.”

“You always say that!”

“I am not as original as I thought I was, then.”

Sera usually observes both of them from her room in the tavern. It’s probably one of the coolest places in the stronghold and she lazily spends her days there until the heat waves are gone, writing down on her journal the banters between Varric and Cassandra, her considerations, and her own complaints about the heat.

Sometimes, she goes down to order something at the counter with Bull, who is one of those few who less suffers the hot weather. He doesn’t even seem to sweat _at all_ , but those who come near him realize this is not the case.

“Chief!” Krem calls from his chair, looking ready to throw his bottle at him. “Put a shirt on! Nobody wants to see your shining tits or smell your armpits!”

Bull’s lower lip quivers and he attempts to quieten his lieutenant with Cabot’s strongest and coldest ale. It usually works.

Blackwall joins them at the tavern too, since the odor of the stables can become unbearable due to the heat. He plays cards with Bull near the fireplace, inside which enchanted pitchers of fresh water and mead are kept.

The Herald’s Rest is appreciated more than ever during these heat waves and soon Cabot has to open all the windows and doors to let more air circulate and make sure everyone can breathe.

The cook in the kitchen leaves it more often, joining the dwarf at the counter, and the messengers are always offered drinks and food for free.

Cole helps those in need: he brings fresh water to the thirsty merchants in the courtyard or servants, he builds shelters in the shadows for the delicate rabbits and birds of the fortress, and lends his hat to those who most need it, although they have no idea how it ended up on their heads.

Some things change inside the fortress too. Leliana wears lighter robes and pulls down her hood; she can be seen touch her short hair while she writes at her desk or looks outside the open windows.

Sometimes she joins Josephine in her office to drink honeyed wine and she is one of the few people who knows that the Antivan ambassador takes off her shoes when she sits behind her desk.

Cullen sends them mint candies, a specialty from Orlais. He has started eating them to fight the urge to ingest lyrium; they keep his mouth and mind occupied with the simple gesture of chewing, but he has noticed they are good to also fight the dryness in the throat that this heat causes everyone to have.

Vivienne casts weak freezing runes all around her personal space in the balcony: it’s like the heat waves never reach her up there and she looks more splendid than ever, not even a bead of sweat running down her brow.

She still enjoys drinking icy champagne, though, seizing the chance to do so more comfortably now than during the coldest days.

She shares it quite often with Dorian, another of the inhabitants of Skyhold who doesn’t find this sudden heat bothersome.

He seems to _bloom_ when the heat waves reach the ancient stronghold: he sits comfortably in his nook, using the same method of Vivienne to cool his space, or goes up to the bastions to bask in the sun and the less violent wind.

He even casts the same freezing runes on people’s clothes or stuff, more than happy to help them and be considered trustworthy enough by the southerners to use magic on them.

The Lady Inquisitor changes clothes too. No more the beige outfit she loves so much, but an orange cotton short-sleeved shirt and knee-long pants instead.

They didn’t look particularly good at first - or elegant, as Josephine complained, already worrying about the nobles in visit -, but the Inquisitor modified them, sewing flowers and intricate Dalish motifs on the brim of the pants and shoulders.

She heard some of the snobbish Orlesian ladies whisper that she looks too colorful and perhaps too _savage_ , but there has been also a surprising reaction from the less pompous guests: they started copying her style, adding flowers to their dresses and jackets, believing it to be the new trend of Skyhold. They fortunately avoided adding the Dalish motifs too.

But even though Scarlet is somewhat used to warmer winds and temperatures, the ones that appear in Skyhold are sudden, unpredictable, and some say even abnormal, as if coming directly from underground.

So after doing everything she needs to do in the fortress, walking around in her colorful attire, bringing summer with every step she takes while wearing her vivid clothes and letting the dry wind ruffle her red hair, she takes shelter in her rooms.

Up in the highest tower of Skyhold, surrounded only by sky and the Frostback Mountains still covered by snow, she finds respite and can relax.

Solas, who finally replaces his heavy sweater with the lighter shirts she sewed for him, stays with her, usually joining her in front of the empty fireplace or in the balcony, where they read, continue their Elvhen lessons, or simply bask in each other’s presence.

They also lie in bed, not caring about their sweaty bodies. In fact, they don’t mind making them even sweatier.

Like today, for example.

Scarlet has been admiring and complimenting the usefulness of the ice runes Solas cast on the floor for quite a while now, touching them with her fingertips and marveling at the complex symbols and the magic she can feel crackle on her skin even though she is a rogue.

She decided to take off even the light shirt and pants she had on and now she is wearing only her breastband and smalls. Today they are green and she sewed aravels and sheaves of wheat to depict the endless fields of the Free Marches she and her clan used to wander through.

Solas is sitting on the bed, surrounded by open books and parchments; he watches her as she lies down on her stomach and caresses the tendrils of ice and freezing air coming from the runes, filled with rapture and awe.

“How is making magic like?” she asks, waving a longer tendril around her index finger. It disappears in many little specks of light and she smiles, letting them pass between her fingers or fly up in the air.

“I believe the answer varies depending on the mage, _vhenan_.” Solas chuckles, idly turning one page of the book he isn’t really reading. He stopped looking at it more than an hour ago in fact, as soon as Scarlet got down on the floor.

She hums and, after a thoughtful silence, continues: “Sometimes, when I was little, I wondered what having magic would feel like. I watched the Keeper train our First and I liked all the lights and colors, even though I had no idea what they were.”

She laughs and turns to look at him. Solas is smiling too and she blushes as she keeps going: “But I think I wouldn’t be that good as a mage. If I had been one, my life would have been quite different, so I wouldn’t even be saying this now.”

She suddenly falls quiet and timid and goes back to admire the nearest rune, following the symbols with a finger, but without actually touching it.

“But if magic suddenly came to me now, like… I don’t know, like the Anchor did? I am sure I would burn everything or panic as the first thunder left my hands.” She sighs and continues playing with the specks of icy light, her cheek squished against the floor.

There is a bit of sadness and melancholy in her eyes, now, and Solas drops the book and scoots on the edge of the bed, concerned.

“My love.” he calls, studying her face. “Why are you so worried about this?”

She hums again and absentmindedly bends her legs, covered with little faint scars; Solas blushes, because her smalls has shifted and he can see a glimpse of the red hairs covering her womanhood.

Ears burning, he redirects his gaze on her and waits.

“You said all elves had magic in the time of Elvhenan.” she mumbles and he nods.

“That is right.”

He remembers how the Fade pervaded everything, how magic flowed in the world and shone inside every elven person like a beacon.

He remembers young children using spells that would shock even the most talented mages of modern Thedas; he remembers how even the poorest slaves could create life and breathe fire when they were allowed to.

“And you said,” Scarlet continues, poking a bigger sphere of light, “that the Arcane Warriors were mocked by those mages who didn’t understand or like their physical abilities.”

“That is also right.” Solas smiles, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. “ _Ma vhenan_ , tell me what is bothering you.”

“Well…” she sits up and moves to play with her sleeves or pants, but remembers she is wearing only her underwear. Her blush comes back and Solas sees a droplet of sweat run down her neck, while others shine on her forehead.

He smiles gets tender and broader and he extends a leg, nudging her foot with his.

“Tell me.” he insists, laughing when she swats his foot. “What did this terrible heat cause you to think about?”

“Would you like me more if I was a mage?” she finally blurts out, but Solas would rather she didn’t say that at all.

That she could even think something like that, believe that she is isn’t good enough…! Did he do something that made her doubt herself? Did he cause her to feel like this?

His face must show his despair, because her face turns redder and she quickly says, wringing her hands: “You admire and love magic. And sometimes… sometimes I feel _useless_ and less than what I should be, because _all_ elves had magic once, but now that doesn’t happen anymore and…”

Scarlet looks at her left hand with a sad face and traces the Mark with her index finger, following the scar. Solas distractedly sees more beads of sweat on her shoulders and back, shiny droplets that slowly roll down her body.

“The Anchor is already something incomprehensible to me. I have no idea how it works and I will probably never understand it, even if there were notes about it hidden in some elven ruins.” She closes her hand and sighs, glancing at the glowing rune she was playing with before.

“And the mere idea of myself using normal magic scares me. I can’t picture myself casting spells or waving a staff around, but sometimes I also don’t feel…” She shrugs and looks back at her legs. “I don’t know. Interesting? We can’t discuss spells and I can’t understand much of what you, Dorian, and Vivienne talk about.”

She furrows her brow, deep in thought, then mumbles shyly: “I _did_ study the basic stuff, though. Our Keeper taught us hunters how to break summoning circles, how to recognize certain spells, and so on.”

She watches the rune shimmer and then gingerly reaches out, brushing her fingertips against the symbols. She touches one and the rune fizzles, shining brighter, and Scarlet draws back with a gasp.

She looks mortified, aware that she shouldn’t have done that even if she let her curiosity make her do it the same. Her blush reaches her neck and she seems to become self-conscious of her current state of attire.

“Sorry, I talked too much.” she murmurs, not even daring glance at Solas, who has been silent the whole time. “I, uh… should put something on in case I am needed downstairs.”

She doesn’t even have the time to get up: Solas is already on the floor with her, arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

She gasps again, but the surprise doesn’t last much: she sees the anguished look in his eyes and immediately gets worried.

“Solas?” she whispers and his lips touch hers, a touch as light as the colored specks coming out from the runes around them.

He feels responsible for these doubts she is having. He never thought she was _inferior_ , on the contrary, he always thought she is stronger, better than him, better than anyone else.

But now he fears he didn’t tell her that enough, that he didn’t show her how much he admires her, her kindness, and her wisdom. He fears he only made her feel small and unappreciated.

He isn’t always able to understand when and how something must be said, he isn’t always good at choosing the right words and at explaining his sentiments.

He always tries to do his best when he is with Scarlet, but apparently he caused her to feel like this all the same. He curses his inability to express his feelings and emotions in a clear way and gently, oh so gently, kisses her again.

“ _Vhenan_ , _ma sa’lath_.” he murmurs, his hands roaming her back slightly slick with sweat. His mouth reaches her forehead and he plants a kiss there too. “Please, _please_ , never think that you are worth little. Don’t let that thought ever cross your mind.”

Golden eyes cast down, she doesn’t reply and Solas insists, finding in his heart and mind all the words that he always wanted to tell her, but only showed through his actions and in the Fade, like a fool.

“You are a formidable rogue. You control the battlefield and our enemies like no mage could ever do.” He cradles her face in his hands and raises it, meeting her eyes. He smiles at her and she smiles as well, cheeks beetle red.

He tries to imagine her handling magic, twirling around with a staff in her hand and a fireball in the other, long robes embracing her body, but the image is wrong and doesn’t feel right, plausible.

He then imagines her in another world, a possible future where magic is back again and the Veil is down, and see that beacon of magic burn into her and come to life with each of her breaths.

But he still can’t see her without her daggers, he can’t see her not performing the old hunting techniques her clan taught her, not moving through the battle like an agile, reckless, fast, and deadly hunter with her blades ready to meet the blood of her enemies.

Her moves look like a dance and she is graceful, attentive. She never loses her balance and she jumps, rolls, and fights as if she was following a rhythm.

This is what he thinks and so he tells her. Blushing, but never stuttering, and her face lightens up.

He keeps looking at her as he speaks, eyes full of wonder, and she smiles, not knowing how to reply to all that, once he is finished.

“So no, you wouldn’t be more interesting. You would be a different person and that would be most disastrous.”

Scarlet giggles and Solas grins, smoothing back her sweaty hair and teasing her long ears.

“I love you, _vhenan_.” His hands move to her shoulders and he massages them a bit to help her relax. They are both still smiling like two doofus. “My beautiful, young wolf sinking poisoned daggers into her preys’ necks and kicking them in the chest.”

She snorts, muffling her next fit of giggles behind a hand, but Solas nibbles at her fingers and convinces her to remove her hand so that he can hear her laugh and kiss her mouth.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love your fighting style?” he says between wet, loud pecks.

His hands are on her waist now and Scarlet’s are under his shirt, caressing his mildly toned chest and his less toned stomach.

“Yes, just two minutes ago.” she laughs, squealing in playful surprise when his lips found a ticklish part of her right ear.

“I am going to tell your again, then.” he grins. “It is phenomenal and sometimes I almost stop fighting to watch you.”

“That’s dangerous, you silly.” She pokes his tummy and Solas lets out his own surprised yelp, which turns into a full laughter once she falls into his arms, giggling again against his neck.

“Oh, my love.” he sighs, caressing her humid skin and smelling her hair. “Forgive me. I am not always able to…” Another sigh, then he traces the embroideries on her breastband with a sad, pensive face. “To let out the words I want to say to you all the time in a good way.”

Scarlet looks up at him, frowning, not understanding well what he means.

“Solas, you always tell me sweet things!” She shakes her head and follows the outline of his slender nose with a finger. “I didn’t have those doubts because of you. They were entirely caused by me.”

She grins at him after saying that and he looks at her with wonder, holding her even tighter, until she is blushing and has to look away to avoid combusting on the spot.

“You always make me feel better.” she continues, whispering and tying the strings of his shirt into knots. “Stronger and more beautiful than I really feel like sometimes. You did it now too.”

She unties the knots and ties the strings into a ribbon instead. Then she grins at him again.

“Fancy!” he comments, then swallows their laughs with a long, deep kiss which doesn’t muffle them completely.

“You do that even when we make love.” she continues, breathing heavily, as Solas gently pushes down on her back. He props himself on his elbows and settles between her legs, which she wraps around his waist.

“You say things that arouse me and make me feel… _perfect_ at the same time.” she laughs breathlessly and wonder is on her face now too. “Like when you tell me that my kindness shine through my eyes when I kiss you or…”

She stops, her face burning again, and Solas’ grin shows a mix between excitement, amusement, and playfulness.

“Or like when you tell me how good I taste.” she completes with a mumble, her hands returning to the ribbon she made. “And compliment my…”

She doesn’t continue, her voice dying in a whisper, and Solas’ grins is so large that his cheeks hurt.

“Your body?” he asks, but Scarlet’s nod doesn’t convince him. He moves his face near hers and whispers sultrily: “Or were you referring to your beautiful quim, _vhenan_?”

Scarlet groans and hides her face behind her hands, making Solas chuckle and kiss her fingers again like he did before.

“Your beautiful, sweet, pink cunt.” he continues and she huffs, but doesn’t remove her hands. He kisses them, then one of his hands teases her thigh.

“All open and glistening, ready to be kissed and licked.” He rolls his hips and Scarlet makes a happy sound, peeking through her fingers. He tries to steal a kiss then, but she is faster and promptly hides back behind her hands.

“It is so soft.” he keeps going, unrelenting, two fingers already slipping beneath her smalls. His smiling mouth finds her temple and a tender, chaste kiss is planted there with all the innocence in the world.

“So soft and warm. I would kiss it forever, the only meal I would need to survive.”

Scarlet groans a second time and finally moves her hands: she sees Solas smiling face and his red face, then the ribbon, then the marks of sweat on his armpits and his shiny forehead and head.

She snorts and another stream of giggles escape her mouth; her hands cover it, but she isn’t able to silence her noises completely.

Solas raises his eyebrows and asks with feigned shock: “What? Did that not arouse you? Was it not romantic enough?” He chuckles and presses a gentle smooch on her forehead. “And here I thought my awkward, dirty talk was astounding.”

“It is! I love your dirty talks!” Scarlet exclaims, then pouts at her own inability to do the same. “ _Mine_ are just depressing. And non-existent, I guess, since the best I can do is babble two or three filthy words and then explode.”

“That is not true.” Solas twirls a strand of her red hair illuminated by the scorching sun around his index finger. “The way you say ‘manhood’ is particularly sensual.”

Scarlet’s pout is all for him now.

“Ass.”

“Ass? Where?” His hands slip under her buttocks with incredible speed and he squeezes them, making her let out the cutest squeal he has ever heard. “Oh, look, I found it.”

He laughs, boyish and carefree, and Scarlet can’t even pretend to stay mad at him when she sees him like that: happy and filled with mirth, his eyes and corners of his mouth crinkling, and so, so in love with her.

She retaliates by squishing his cheeks and kissing him hard, laughing into his mouth as he tries to squeeze her butt again.

“The only words I can say without feeling like I’m going to faint are ‘ass’ and ‘manhood’.” She thinks about it. “… And sometimes ‘dick’, but it depends on the day.”

“ _Vhenan_ , do not worry. I love what you say to me in bed.” His smile is sweet and so full of love she wants to glue them both on the floor and stay like this for all eternity, Corypheus be damned.

“And what you tell me outside of it too.” Solas adds, starting to pepper her face with little, tickling kisses. “Your compliments and words of love that I do not deserve.”

“You deserve them. All of them.” Scarlet says, hugging him hard. She rubs her cheek on his. “And I’m sorry I’m not always able to express myself clearly.”

She laughs and looks at him, admiring the way his freckles stand out against his flushed face.

“Words are so tricky sometimes.”

“They are difficult to catch and control.” Solas agrees. “The heart is their creator and its language is often too complex for people to translate it.”

She hums and nods, then asks, while tracing his cheekbones: “Is that why things seem easier in the Fade?”

“Yes. The Fade is able to translate that language and to change the world accordingly. It turns it into emotions and feelings and sensations that can be directly experienced.” He kisses her. “And I felt and saw your love in the Fade, _vhenan_. I _saw_ what you always tell me.”

He chuckles and rests his forehead on hers.

“And also what you are not able to say. Thank you.”

“I felt your love too.” She gasps and her eyes widen. “I always feel it here in the waking world too! But you are right, it’s like the Fade embodies it somehow and shows it directly.” She grins proudly. “I saw that even though I am not a mage.”

Solas’ smile is as proud as hers.

“ _Ar lath, ma vhenan_.” she whispers, nuzzling his nose. Then she stares into his eyes and adds softly: “I love everything about you.”

Solas looks on the verge of tears for a moment, even though he is smiling. He blinks them away before Scarlet can panic and worry and decides to joke to avoid getting too emotional and ruining everything.

“Mh.” He rests his chin on his hand and smirks. “Everything?”

A sweet kiss reaches his lips. “Everything.”

Then Solas wiggles his eyebrows and Scarlet groans, already looking away. She focuses on the empty fireplace where they stored fresh water and cold desserts protected by another ice rune, but Solas is unrelenting.

“Even my dick?” he whispers in her ear. Her blush returns, as if called. “My cock. My length. My penis. My manhood.”

Each word is pronounced with a kiss and each word causes Scarlet’s blush to reach hues of red he never thought existed.

She stubbornly keeps looking at the fireplace, her hands loosely clinging to his shirt, so Solas prepares for the final word.

He kisses her cheek, the most chaste kiss ever, and Scarlet gives him a sidelong glance, suspicious.

He strikes then, his smile as innocent as his kiss.

“My decanter of people juice.”

She fully turns to him, eyes wide, and blinks. Solas’ smile broadens slowly, little by little, while she tries to understand.

“People juice?” she repeats and he nods solemnly. “What does that mean?”

He raises his eyebrows, waiting. Scarlet connects the dots, realization shines on her face and she gasps.

“Solas!”

And then he bursts into laughter, even rolling off of her onto the floor. She splutters and babbles something, then laughs with him, the sound of their laughter echoing in the vast room.

“Where did you hear such a thing?” she asks as they keep laughing. There are tears of mirth in their eyes and Solas’ cheeks are all red as he cackles, face pressed on her chest.

“Bull mentioned it once.” he explains, doing his best to regain breathe. “It is such a peculiar expression that it stuck in my mind.”

“Oh, _vhenan_!” Scarlet kisses his head and they continue to laugh until their faces and bellies hurt and tears are streaming down their cheeks.

She watches Solas catch his breath and smiles, because he looks happy and free of that melancholy that often shines through his eyes.

He is lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, and she scoots closer to press her lips on his cheek.

His arms immediately find her and she nestles against his body. They are sticky, sweaty, and they probably stink a lot, but the runes around them offer cool comfort and protect them from the heat wave of this day.

“We should continue our Elvhen lesson.” Solas says quietly and Scarlet agrees, looking back at the bed from above her shoulder.

Their books and papers are still there and she feels a thrill of excitement at the idea of learning more written Elvhen with Solas, at spending the next hours at his side while he helps her exercise with old texts and tests he personally made for her.

Then an idea hits her. Lessons. She could study how to better express herself romantically.

At the start of their relationship, she swore to always compliment Solas and remind him how wise, talented, kind, and beautiful he is.

She hopes she did a good job until now, but the topic they faced today made her realize that she needs to do more. Her simple words - even though enthusiastic, sincere, and coming straight from her heart - might need to be accompanied by other displays of love and appreciation.

Like poems! She can’t write a formal letter to a noble for the life of her, but she believes she can write a short poem to compliment Solas, with the help of some books.

Also she needs to improve her dirty talk. That’s a good way to make him feel good too. Even though the Fade helps them show completely and in a clear way what they feel for each other, she wants it to be well displayed in the waking world too.

Not because they don’t know what the other’s feelings are, they are perfectly aware of how much they love each other.

It’s just that words are important, they are the basis of this world together with magic, and Scarlet knows Solas has been hurt by ugly words in the past.

He never explained it clearly, but he doesn’t need to say it for it to be evident: even now, he acts very defensively when he talks about his passion for the Fade with strangers or some of their companions. He raises a thick wall, ready to be attacked and mocked, _expecting_ it.

And even though she knows her loving words have helped him, she wants them to be even more effective and helpful. She can’t use healing magic, but she can heal him with her words and gestures.

Solas takes off his clothes as well, wearing only his breeches, and then they get into bed. As his voice lulls her heart and her kisses on his shoulder warms his, Scarlet thinks of more ways to improve her language skills.

And as she watches Solas read and feels his hand tenderly rub her shoulders, she thinks that words to describe him and her love for him probably haven’t been invented yet.

She will find them the same.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was supposed to be a completely different thing at first and now it includes:
> 
> \- a detailed description of the residents of Skyhold experiencing heat waves caused by the Titan probably living under the fortress. It's just a theory, but I like to imagine that a Titan is indeed down there like some codex entries seem to imply and that its presence causes sudden heat waves to reach the surface and influence Skyhold.
> 
> \- [Scarlet](http://lafaiette.tumblr.com/scarletlavellan)'s doubts about her worthy as a rogue in a world filled with mages and magic, which once was populated only by elves who had mastered all kinds of magic.
> 
> \- Solas and Scarlet being two freaking dorks in love.
> 
> \- Scarlet's inability to talk dirty and Solas' doubts about his ability to well convey his feelings. We know he isn't the best when it comes down to talking with people.
> 
> The next chapter is going to revolve around dirty talking. That was the original draft was about. [My face while writing this fic](http://i0.kym-cdn.com/entries/icons/original/000/018/489/nick-young-confused-face-300x256_nqlyaa.png). 
> 
> AT LEAST THERE WILL BE SMUT ;_;


End file.
